Inmates
by Littleforest
Summary: Colonel Jack O'Neill has proven time and again that he will do anything to protect his team. However, when a mission gone wrong leaves Jack and Sam locked in a prison cell with no hope of escape, how far will he have to go to keep her safe?
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG1, nor any of the show's characters or settings. All I own is the plot, and that's riddled with so many clichés _that_ even that claim of ownership is somewhat dubious.

**A/N – **Well, hello! First of all, thank you for clicking on my story. Secondly, I feel as if I should warn you slightly before you start reading. For those of you who have read one of my stories before, you'll know that I love a bit of angst. In fact, my stories are almost always pretty much saturated with angst - and whump - with usually with only smidgens of fluff interspersed throughout the plot to keep people from getting too depressed whilst reading. I also love a good cliché, and this story definitely falls under that category. So if you don't like either of those kinds of things, click away now. If you do, enjoy!

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**~ Inmates ~**

**Chapter One**

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"Ow…"

Colonel Jack O'Neill hit the floor with a hard thud, his whole body jarring in pain as landed. The bars clanged shut behind him, but he barely registered the sound. The world span, both inside and outside his mind, and for one moment, Jack was sure he was going to puke his guts up. He knew, intellectually, that his body was lying still on the ground, and yet for some reason, his head was spinning so much that it made him feel as if he was on some nauseating ride through space instead…

"…you okay, Colonel?"

Jack groaned, and shifted slightly, although pain flared through his chest at the brief movement, causing him to almost black out. His world stopped spinning for a moment, but it felt as if he had a hundred knives pressing into his lungs instead, and breathing was becoming more and more difficult by the second. God, it was agony…

"Colonel…?"

The voice barely registered as Jack fought to regain control of his mind and work out what the hell was going on. His condition felt familiar, and in the dark recesses of his mind, Jack saw flashes of Iraqi soldiers, and felt their sharp punches as they swore at him in Arabic, leaving a combination of sand and blood mixed together in his mouth…

Jack swallowed hard, trying to push away the dark memories to the back of his mind where he knew they belonged. This felt…similar, but different. His mind was moving slowly to catch up, so he focused on the little he knew for sure about his current situation.

He was lying face down on the floor – concrete or stone by the feel of it – and though he couldn't quite find the energy or will to open his eyes, he got the impression that the room was clean and that the ground was smooth. It was cool as well. Nothing like the stuffy, dirty cell he'd been trapped in when the Iraqis had got hold of him. It had taken him months to wash away all the dirt and sand once he'd finally made his way home…

"…Colonel…"

Jack gritted his teeth, trying once more to push away the bad memories, though his throbbing mind just didn't seem to want to co-operate this time. Ghosts of the past pounded through his head, interspersed with the very real pain that his current captors had laid on him this time. God, what was it about him that always invited the scum of the Earth – or universe for the matter - to want to torture him?

His thoughts and memories were finally starting to trickle back into his mind, though he knew there was something he was still forgetting…

Jack groaned again as his ribs jarred during a shaky breath. His energy was fading fast, and despite the fact that he didn't even know where he he'd been dumped, Jack decided that – for now at least - he was quite content to stay as he was. In fact, forget about trying to work out what had happened, he told himself tiredly; passing out sounded like a much better idea…

"Colonel, you can't go to sleep," came that annoying voice again, and Jack groaned. "You need to stay awake."

"Shuddup…" Jack muttered in reply. He briefly – and with no small amount of difficulty - pulled his head off the floor to try and see who it was who kept disturbing him. His vision was blurry, but he could just about make out a figure next to him on his left. It was a woman, he realised, concentrating a bit harder. A blond woman dressed in green BDU's...

Jack pushed through the fog that was filling his mind, pushed away the pain in his chest, and concentrated again…

"Carter?" he asked hoarsely, allowing his eyes to fall shut and his head to rest against the concrete once the effort to hold it up became too great. "That…you?"

He'd been on a mission, Jack realised with a jolt, as his memories flashed back as if in Technicolor. He'd been on a mission with SG1 this time, definitely _not _in Iraq. He vaguely recalled that they'd arrived on the planet expecting peaceful negotiations. Obviously something had gone wrong if he was feeling like this, though he couldn't for the life of him remember what had happened…

"Yeah, Sir," she replied, and Jack felt relief flood through him. "It's me. Are you okay?"

Jack shifted again, and pain flared in his chest once more, quickly reminding him of his predicament. Broken ribs, he realised, making a mental note not to move again for a while. Probably three or four, if he had to guess. A couple might be cracked as well, though it was hard to tell with all the pain stabbing through his chest. Had he been beaten up and tortured then? He had a feeling that he had, though his brain was quite up to speed yet, so he wasn't sure…

Jack took a deep shaky breath, and did a quick inventory of his other injuries as his mind began to focus a little more, running through his usual post-torture checklist. His right shoulder felt a little funny; probably dislocated, he realised, which would explain why his arm wasn't really cooperating with him. He felt something dribbling down his eyebrow and over his eye as well, which he figured had to be blood. That could definitely mean trouble, especially when he added it his difficulty with forming coherent thoughts. Probably concussion if he had to guess…

"Are you okay?" Carter repeated, and Jack blinked hard as he tried to force his mind to comply. Oh, definitely concussion…

"Just…peachy, Major," Jack muttered, opening his eyes once more. This time he blinked hard, forcing the blurriness away. His head burned with pain, but eventually his eyes complied. His entire body ached as well with what was no doubt a plethora of bruises, but other than that he felt…okay. Well, his ribs hurt like a bitch, and he could barely concentrate due to the thudding in his mind, but he was alive at least…

"Sir…"

"Daniel…Teal'c…?" he asked before Carter could build a head of steam, a little angry with himself that he'd forgotten his duty as leader so quickly, quite ignoring the fact that he could barely think straight. All he could focus on was the fact that he needed to know that they, at least, were alright. "They…okay, Carter?"

"Yeah, I…er…I think so, Sir," Carter replied anxiously. "They got away. I'm not sure if they managed to make it back to the gate, but they definitely weren't with us when we were taken."

He would have liked her to sound more confident, but he didn't blame her for her hesitation. In fact, he had a feeling that she had been part of the reason Teal'c and Daniel had even had the chance to get away in the first place. Jack fought to remember exactly why he thought that, but it just wasn't coming…

Jack frowned towards the floor, before he shook himself slightly and realised that he was once again failing in his duty as the leader of SG1. He'd been through this before, he told himself furiously, already gritting his teeth in preparation for what he was about to do. He could handle a bit of pain…

"Help me…up, Major," Jack began hoarsely, making the decision quickly before he could change his mind. He vaguely remembered deciding that moving was a bad idea, but he brushed that thought away. He had to know what was going on, and for that, he needed to be upright, not lying face down on the floor.

"Sir, I don't think – "

"That's an…order, Major," Jack interrupted with no small amount of difficulty, doing his best to keep his breathing shallow to take the pressure of his ribs.

She would cave now, he knew. Carter was good like that. Not like Daniel, who saw orders as guidelines at best. Yep, Jack was grateful for his Major, and he couldn't help but be glad she was here with him, even though the thought made him feel immediately guilty. No matter what their current situation was though, and what state he was in, Carter had always respected the fact that he was still her commanding officer. She would cave…

"Fine, Sir," Carter replied quietly as he had known she would, though he could practically hear the disapproval in her tone.

Knowing Carter, Jack thought to himself, she'd probably get her own back by telling Janet how stubborn he'd been, and then the Doc would get out one of her honking big needles and stick it…

"Ow…" he moaned, when Carter began to pull him up unexpectedly. He must have blanked out again, because he didn't remember her coming closer. His ribs felt on fire, as if his chest was burning from the inside out, and for a moment, he was sure he lost consciousness completely.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Don't…worry 'bout it," Jack replied through gritted teeth. She didn't reply, and Jack was grateful for her silence. He was finding it hard enough to breathe, let alone hold a conversation.

He tried to focus on anything _but _the pain as Carter continued to pull him up, a task that was proving infinitely harder since his body wasn't co-operating with his commands. Pain ripped through his head and his chest, and by the time he was finally sat up, he was breathing so heavily he was half-certain that he was about to pass out again…

In fact, now that he thought about it – and he really didn't _want _to think too much – his head was hurting more than he'd originally anticipated…

"Ow…" he groaned, bending his head down as he tried to get the world to stop spinning.

"Sir?" Carter began worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Ow," Jack repeated gruffly, scrunching his eyes tightly shut as he rode the new wave of pain. "Hurts…Carter."

"I know, Sir," she replied softly,

"Situation?" he asked, knowing that they needed to get down to business. He wasn't sure how long his battered brain was going to last before he passed out, so he knew he had to get as much information as possible, as quickly as possible…

"Not good, Sir," she replied, clearly recognising his need for fast information, though her eyes were pinched in concern. "Do you remember what happened?"

Once again he felt flashes of punches and heat, but this time, he also had a faint memory of shouting, running and then pain. A lot of pain…

"Captured?"

"Yeah, we were captured by those soldiers," Carter continued. "They knocked us both out, then they dumped us in this…prison, I guess."

Jack decided now would be a good time to look around for himself. They were in a room barely big enough to hold the two of them, though they did have a little wriggle room thankfully. Unfortunately, the walls looked to be solid stone, and the bars that were holding them in seemed to be about six inches thick each.

"We were left alone for about ten minutes, and then they grabbed you and took you away," Carter continued. "You were gone about an hour." She hesitated. "Judging by your current condition, I'd guess…well, I'd guess that they tortured you."

Jack took another difficult breath, focusing his mind on the not too distant past. This time different memories flashed across his mind; strangely dressed men, as big as Teal'c, holding him down and asking him endless question after question in a language he didn't understand whilst another man was punching him over and over…

Jack tried to hide his shiver. "Yep, definitely torture. Can't…remember what they wanted from me, though."

"It doesn't matter, Sir," Carter said. "I know you wouldn't tell them anything."

Jack smiled despite his pain, and pushed away his own doubts. "I….know that Carter. Been there, already got…the torture t-shirt. Besides, I didn't even understand…what they were saying. It was similar to…German, but not enough that…I was able to recognise it…"

Jack closed his eyes, riding another wave of dizziness as heat shot across his mind. God, he was in bad shape. Even saying that much had exhausted him…

"Daniel would know…" Carter paused. "Wait, you know German?"

Ah, Jack thought, she didn't actually know that about him, did she? He'd forgotten that. There was a lot his team didn't know actually, and, as Jack was quickly beginning to realise, it seemed like his concussion-addled mind thought that now was a good time to start revealing everything. Though, he also realised, that might not be the worst thing in the world. Daniel wasn't here to bug him, for one, but also, it might prove a good distraction for Carter. And if he could keep her spirits up until they were able to escape of until Daniel and Teal'c rescued them…well, then all the better for him.

Jack gritted his teeth again, trying to hide how much of a beating he had taken. No use in worrying Carter too much. He felt better now that he was sitting up anyway – sort of. His head was still spinning, and his chest and shoulder felt like they were on fire, but he definitely felt...better…

"Sir?"

He'd been quiet too long. Damn.

"Sorry" he muttered. "Head rush."

"Concussion?" Carter asked sympathetically.

"Probably," Jack replied, trying not to shrug since he knew it wouldn't do his ribs much good.

"That's not going to get you out of telling me, you know," Carter told him, a small smile on his face. "You know German, don't you?"

Well, in for a penny…

"Ja," Jack grinned despite his pain. Jack deliberately didn't elaborate, mostly because he was struggling to talk without it hurting, but also because he wanted to get Carter's brain working. And there was nothing she liked more that a problem to be solved...

"It's not just German either, is it?" she asked shrewdly, comprehension dawning on her face. Jack tried to keep his poker face on, though he wasn't sure he succeeded. Damn concussion...

"How many languages doyou actually know, Sir?" she asked, clearly curious even despite her concern about him.

"More than one, less...than ten," he joked hoarsely.

"Come on, Colonel," she pleaded. Jack bit back a smile; Plan 'Distract Carter' was a go...

"Please, just tell me..."

Jack made a show of sighing loudly, though he made sure to keep his breathing shallow. "Fine, Carter...if you must know...six."

"Six?" Carter asked, and Jack couldn't help but be pleased, and also a little bit insulted, by the amount of surprise in her expression. "Really, six?"

"Six," Jack confirmed with a tired nod. God, his head was throbbing again. He hated concussions…and broken ribs…and torture for that matter…

"Fluently?" Carter asked, and Jack forced his attention back to his second-in-command.

"More or less," he replied, once again forcing himself _not _to shrug.

"Which ones?" Carter asked impatiently, as if she was doing her best to take advantage of the fact that he was actually revealing something about himself. "Come on Sir, don't hold out on me now. Not now that you've got me all curious..."

Jack sighed again. "Fine…er German, French, Arabic, Russian…and Spanish. And English…obviously."

"Wow…" Carter replied, clearly surprised. Jack would have been insulted, except he knew he couldn't really blame Carter for believing his dumb soldier act. She was supposed to, after all.

"Does Daniel know?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Nope," Jack replied, forcing a smile. God, his head was hurting like hell now…and his ribs… "And I…forbid you to tell him. Better to surprise him one day…"

"That's evil, Sir," Carter grinned. "He's going to be so pissed when he finds out."

"He'll get over it," Jack grinned back, the smile coming a little easier this time. His ribs were definitely beginning to stab into him again though, and his brain was starting to get that fuzzy feeling that he knew came just before he passed out…

Ah…

"Carter…" he muttered, before she could ask another question. He knew he didn't have long. "When they come back…wake me up."

"Wake you…?" she began, concern and confusion clear in every word she spoke. "What do you mean…Sir? Colonel…?"

He barely heard her. He was already falling, into the blackness, down, down, until he knew no more.

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**A/N** – So, there we are. The beginning of my newest project. In case you were wondering when it's set…well, I'm not exactly sure. All I can tell you for certain is that it's set after season 3, and Daniel and Janet are alive. Other than that, the choice of timeline is entirely yours. It's definitely not going to be long, I can tell you that much (I know I always say that, but this time it's true!). Please let me know that there is some interest in this continuing; I'd love some feedback, especially if there's something particular you want me to include. I'm planning on alternating the viewpoints for each chapter between the two 'inmates', so next up is Sam. For now though, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG1, nor any of the show's characters or settings. All I own is the plot, and that's riddled with so many clichés _that_ even that claim of ownership is somewhat dubious.

**A/N – **Wow! What a response to the first chapter! You're the best, and I appreciate each and every single one of your comments. Hopefully you like this chapter just as much, though it is a bit shorter than the last one. As promised though, here's Sam's point of view of the situation so far, with quite a bit of hurt Jack thrown in for good measure. Enjoy!

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**~ Inmates ~**

**Chapter Two**

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"Sir?" Sam prompted again, trying to stay professional and calm– although she knew she'd already failed miserably when desperation began to creep into her tone against her will. She couldn't help it though; it was clear that the Colonel was in trouble, a fact that had been obvious from the moment the captors had dumped him back in their cell, bloody and bruised, and suffering from a whole array of injuries that could have only come from a very thorough beating. Now, he was lying face up, exactly where he had collapsed the second time; in pain, unconscious, maybe even dying on the floor right beside her…

Sam shook herself, trying to dislodge the unpleasant images that had momentarily taken over her head as she bent over him, ready to do her own inspection of her CO's injuries. The Colonel was notorious for hiding his pain, especially when they'd been captured in the past, and she didn't at all trust his own assessment of his condition. Oh, she had no doubt that he had a concussion - most likely a severe one, given how long it had taken her to wake him up in the first place – but she very much doubted that a concussion was the extent of the stubborn man's injuries.

Sam couldn't help but flash back to their time in Antarctica, unable to ignore the similarities in the two situations; the Colonel, hurt badly, both of them miles away from home, trapped, and with little chance of rescue. It had been just the two of them then as well, and Sam couldn't help but remember the rising panic that had almost overcome her then too. It had been down to her to get them out of it, and she had failed miserably in that regard. Had it not been for Daniel, coming up with the idea that there were two Earth gates, she would have left O'Neill whilst she searched for some sign of life on the surface, and he would have died alone, in pain and surrounded by ice...

Sam bit back her panic again, though it was becoming more difficult the longer the Colonel remained unconscious. He hadn't moved since he'd passed out a minute or so ago, and for someone as active as the Colonel – who usually couldn't stand to even sit still for second – well, it had Sam's alarm bells ringing.

Not again, she told herself as she moved closer to him, doing her best to replace panic with resolve. She would not let him down again, not this time. He was relying on her, and this time, she _would _save him.

"Sir? Colonel…?" she tried again, her voice a little calmer now. She shook his shoulder, but frowned when the Colonel grimaced in pain.

Still no reply though, although she hadn't really expected one. Well, first things first, Sam told herself, she needed to check on the Colonel's condition, although she already knew there wasn't going to be a lot she would be able to do for him. Their captors had taken pretty much everything from them apart from their clothes. Even their watches had gone. Sam figured that the people who had them probably had some degree of technology if they could recognise that leaving them with their guns and other possessions would be a bad idea…

Sam shook the useless and depressing thought from her mind, and frowned deeply as she looked down at her silent and unmoving commander, taking a deep breath as she focused back on the task in hand; she needed to check his condition properly. She needed to make sure he was okay.

Her eyes raked over his immobile form, cataloguing every bruise and cut for future reference. The Colonel was as pale as a sheet as well, and the blood and bruises that spattered across his face eerily contrasted with the gauntness of his skin. Pushing away her concern yet again – although it was becoming more and more difficult to stay in control of her emotions – Sam forced herself to focus as unemotionally as possible on her task.

It was a task made almost impossible when she noticed the Colonel's eyes pinched in pain, even despite the fact that he remained worrying unconscious. She knew in that moment that he had to have been hurt much more than the bruises, or even the concussion, could explain. O'Neill was not a man to show weakness, even with his eyes closed.

Sam swallowed deeply, steadying herself as she focused again on his shoulder. Feeling it gently, she probed the area, hoping that it wasn't quite as bad as she feared. Unfortunately, the shoulder, even under the Colonel's relatively thick BDU's, felt wrong somehow, as if it wasn't quite where it should be. She sighed. Dislocated, Sam realised with a heavy heart, her eye brow pinching together in concern.

Damn.

Pushing on, Sam allowed her hands to roam down the Colonel's chest. Slowly, she began to undo the buttons on the front of his BDU's, intent on getting a closer look at his shoulder, and maybe even checking out the Colonel's ribs. He definitely wasn't breathing as easily as she would like…

"Carter, what…you doing?"

The hoarse gruff startled her already frayed nerves, and Sam had to work hard not to jump at the unexpected noise. It took a few seconds for the sound to completely register through her shock, but when it did, she couldn't hide her surprise. Surprise, however, was followed by intense, all-consuming relief.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, staring down at the Colonel as he blinked tiredly, his brown eyes miraculously meeting hers. "You're…awake?"

"Apparently," he replied gruffly, his voice hoarse and tinged with exhaustion and pain. O'Neill shifted slightly, clearly ready to pull himself up, but Sam put a gentle hand on his uninjured arm, holding him down. She knew, without having to ask, what the man had in mind, and she had no intention of letting him follow through with his stubborn intentions this time. Janet would have her head…

"No, don't get up, Sir," she told him quietly, keeping a hand pressed into his arm. He frowned, clearly annoyed and confused, but Sam held firm. "You're hurt."

"I know…that, Carter," he replied irritably. Sam ignored him, already well used to the Colonel's gruff exterior after so many years of working together. "I…still need to get up."

"You need to rest, Sir," she continued, refusing to move her hand until he got the message.

"I'm fine," he muttered, his creased forehead belying his words.

"Sorry, Sir, but I don't agree," Sam said, with no trace of an actual apology in her tone. "You've already told me yourself that you've got concussion and it's obvious that you've taken a hell of a beating. Your shoulder's dislocated as well, isn't it, and exactly how many ribs have you broken?"

He didn't even bat an eyelid at her words, which told her more than enough about his condition. He wasn't at all surprised by her conclusions, meaning he had already made the same ones himself. Damn the man…

"You've been checking me out," the colonel mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Sorry I missed it…"

He had said the last sentence so quietly that Sam got the feeling that he hadn't meant to say it at all, but she still heard the words as clear as day.

"What was that, Sir?" she asked, not sure if she had heard that right.

"I don't…know, Carter" the Colonel replied with a raspy sigh, and his expression was unreadable. "My head's a little fuzzy…I think you might be right about the concussion."

Sam frowned again at the reminder that her CO was anything _but _okay. God, she thought, looking around their cell with no small amount of despair, though she was quick to push it down. What the hell were they going to do…?

"Sir, _you_ told _me_ that you had concussion," she told him slowly, her eyes burning with concern. "Remember?"

"Oh, right," O'Neill replied, grimacing again, though at least this time he listened to her, and didn't try to get up. "Well, it must be true then."

"How many ribs, Sir?" Sam asked him, undeterred by his attempts to change the subject. "And be honest this time. If you don't, I'll tell Janet, and she'll – ".

"Get out her…honking big needles," the Colonel finished, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Yeah, I know. Damn…power monger…."

"Sir…come on," Sam prompted, unwilling to let this go. "How many ribs are broken?"

Her eyes challenged him to be truthful for once, and she refused to back down. Not about this…

"Three," he muttered, grimacing slightly as he thought about his answer, clearly focusing on the pain in his chest. "Maybe four."

"Damn," Sam muttered, cursing internally to herself. This was worse than she'd feared. Even if, by some miracle, the Colonel wasn't already bleeding internally, there was no way in hell they were walking out of here, not with him in this condition. God, with the pain he must be in, she was surprised he was still conscious. She knew the Colonel had a high pain tolerance, but this had been more than a beating, that much was clear. This had been torture, plain and simple, and she felt a sudden rush of intense hatred towards the people who were holding them here. If she ever got her hands on them…

"Don't do anything," O'Neill muttered, as if he had read her mind. She stared down at him, her eyes meeting his. How did he do that?

"What do you mean, Sir?" she asked tightly, gripping her hands together as she fought to control her anger. Though, she told herself, anger was better than panic any day.

"Don't…antagonise them," the Colonel continued, his voice so hoarse that it was barely a whisper.

"Because you _never _do that…" she muttered sarcastically.

"That's…different," the Colonel replied, his brown eyes serious despite his pain. "It's my job…to annoy our enemies. Not yours…"

"Oh, and what's my job then, sir," she continued sarcastically, though her attitude was borne more out of their situation that the Colonel himself. She hated being helpless…

"You save…our asses," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll…I'll do my job…you concentrate on yours. They don't seem too…interested in you at the moment. I'd like to… keep it that way. They can have me instead…"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "You can't honestly expect me to just let them torture you again? No way in hell, Sir."

"Why?" he asked, his expression free of any guile or trick. He was serious then, she realised. Pain was covering every inch of his expression, and Sam knew that he wasn't going to stay conscious for very much longer, but it was clear to her he was deadly serious about what he was saying. He honestly expected her to let him be taken again without a fight…

"Why? Because they'll kill you, Sir!" Carter replied, her anger bursting out unexpectedly. Why was he always like this? Didn't he value his life at all? "Respectfully, Sir, I don't care what you say. I won't let them take you next time. I'll offer to go instead, I don't care – "

"No," Jack interrupted hoarsely, and Sam detected a small amount of fear in his voice that stopped any retort dead in her throat. "That's an order…Major. I go. You stay here. You stay…safe. That's an order…"

"Sir…"

"Promise me, Sam," he mumbled, clearly at the last of his energy reserves. He slumped slightly, but his eyes were burning with what must have been every ounce of strength he had left. "Please…promise."

God, she hated this, almost as much as she hated herself for what she was about to do.

"Fine…" she said slowly, the word almost burning her throat.

"Say it," the Colonel persisted, blinking slowly as he fought to stay away.

"I…promise," Sam said heavily. "But you have to promise me something too, Sir."

"Sure…Carter," he mumbled in reply, barely listening to her now she suspected. She wasn't going to let this go, though. If he was going to make her promise not to draw attention to herself, he was damn well going to promise her something as well.

"Stay alive, Sir," she told him, her hand still pressing against his arm in a show of support.

"I'll…do my best, Carter," O'Neill replied tiredly, his words almost slurring together now. "I can't…promise anything though…"

"Yes you can," Sam interrupted, not really caring how desperate she sounded. "You have to, Sir. Please."

"Fine," the Colonel mumbled, finally closing his eyes again. This time Sam let him. "I promise too, Carter…"

Sam let out a long, shaky breath, unsure whether fear was the most prevalent of her emotions, or whether relief had just taken over it.

When she looked down at the Colonel, eyes closed and lips tight in another grimace of pain, Sam knew that it was neither. Worry was her constant companion now, and she knew it wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Comforted slightly by the sound of the Colonel's raspy breathing echoing around their cell, Sam moved back until she was resting as comfortably as possible against the stone wall beside the Colonel, her eyes never leaving his battered form.

Sam found, very quickly, that she couldn't relax though. Her mind was whirring, and amongst all the chaos, a single terrible thought stood out more than any other, pounding at her already exhausted mind, and pushing away all her other concerns as if they were dust in the wind.

The thing was, she wasn't sure that she was going to be able to keep her promise to the Colonel, especially if they tried to torture him again. What truly terrified her, however, was the fact that – no matter how hard she tried not to think about the possibility – she wasn't sure that the Colonel was going to be able to keep his promise either.

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**A/N - **So how was it? I hope you're all still enjoying the story, and that you want to read more. I also hope that Sam and Jack are still more or less in character, though I must admit, I am worried about that. I found Sam really difficult to write in this chapter for some reason, much harder than Jack was in the last chapter, and I'm not entirely sure I got her right. Please, let me know, but for now...thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG1, nor any of the shows characters or settings. All I own is the plot, and that's riddled with so many cliches that even _that _claim of ownership is somewhat dubious.

**A/N - **Finally a new update! Sorry it's taken so long but my laptop has now spent a total of 2 weeks (and counting) at a repair centre getting fixed. I've managed to use my mum and dad's computer in short spells and I have written quite a bit the old fashioned way (good old pen and paper), but it's still taken a lot longer than I would have liked to get this posted. It isn't a very long chapter either, but after all your wonderful reviews, I really didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. Forgive me, and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**~ Inmates ~**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

When their captors eventually did return, they didn't give Carter much of a chance to go back on her promise.

Two huge men - larger than even Teal'c in both width and height - dragged Jack shakily to his feet, ignoring both his hiss of pain and Carter's own gasp of concern. Before Carter could even begin to protest however, Jack was pulled backwards and out of the cell, his shoulder and ribs burning with a pain so intense that Jack knew he would have fallen to his knees had the two captors not been holding him upright. The brief respite he'd been able to get in his and Carter's joint cell was not nearly long enough for him to have recovered for round two, and the unnatural twinge of white hot pain in both his shoulder and ribs would have concerned him greatly had his mind been clear enough to understand. As it was, it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

This was still better, Jack thought to himself as he continued to work through the rising fog in his fight to stay conscious. At least if he was the one being taken again, no matter what fate awaited him, it meant that the natives still had no interest in Carter. Jack glanced back towards the cell just as the captor slammed the bars shut once more, the loud clang reverberating around the corridor. Carter was on her feet, looking for all the world like she was ready to take on the two captors even from behind the bars, but Jack shook his head significantly in her direction. She looked furious, scared and concerned all at once, but she stayed silent, and Jack was grateful for that much. Despite their conversation earlier, Jack knew it would be hard for her to watch him be taken - for torture no less - and do nothing about it, but Jack was counting on it.

Because she was the genius, she was the one who would be able to get them out of here. He was the old soldier, way past his best years by a long shot. She was the one _worth _protecting. And Jack knew, with a clarity that would have scared him had he been in any frame of mind to notice, that he would do whatever was necessary to protect her. Even if it meant taking another beating. Even if it meant Carter returning to Earth alone...

Jack shook himself, attempting, somewhat in vain, to knock away his rather morbid thoughts. He needed to concentrate. As much as he knew that Carter - and Daniel and Teal'c, provided they had managed to get away - were his best chance of surviving this hell hole, Jack also knew that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to look around. Last time he had been taken, he'd been out for the count. This time he was conscious at least. Well, he was mostly conscious...

Jack shook himself again, and bit back a cry as his shoulder jarred. The two giants ignored him, dragging him round a corner. The corridors were bare of both decorations and other people, but Jack tried to focus anyway, hoping to see some weakness that he and Carter could exploit.

To his growing concern, however, there was nothing. No doors, no windows. Not even any lights, which was strange now that Jack thought about it, since he could definitely see...

"Hey, watch it," Jack muttered as he was pushed forward, causing him to stagger even more than he had been doing before. Still the two captors ignored him, though Jack was certain that one of them had given him an extra hard shove forward when he'd tried to regain his balance. His arm burned as he was yanked back at the same time, and his head swam as heat flashed across his vision. He was battered and bruised, and now the goons were treating him like the ball in a pinball machine.

He didn't have much chance to dwell on it, however. After being dragged through a maze of grey, indistinguishable corridors, Jack was finally pushed through a door into a room that he, unfortunately, did recognise. Though the memory was fuzzy, he had been here before, and that, Jack knew, did not bode well for him.

Yep, Jack thought, unable to squash down the dread that was rapidly rising up in his battered chest as he stared at his not-so-welcoming welcoming committee. Jack sighed. Welcome to the torture chamber.

* * *

"Oof!"

Jack felt the air leave his lungs as he hit the floor with a thud, but it was the least of his problems. His back was burning so badly that Jack felt as if it was on fire, and the sound of the bars clanging shut behind him barely registered as he fought back tears of pain. The cool air of the cell blew across his bare back as he lay face down on the cold ground, but it didn't bring him any relief...

"Oh God, Sir..."

Carter sounded upset, Jack thought numbly, the thought flitting across his mind and momentarily taking over the intense pain that had made up his world for the last hour or so. In all the time he had known her, Carter had sounded angry, concerned, even scared, but never once upset. She was too good of a soldier for that, and the fact that she was upset now could only mean one thing. It was bad...

"Sir?"

"I'm okay, Carter," Jack mumbled, biting back the bile that was threatening to rise up in his throat. His ribs were hurting with the pressure of lying on his front, but he knew he was not in any shape to be moving. Not this time.

"But Sir, your back..."

Jack took a shallow breath. "Yeah, they stepped it up...a bit with the old...torture thing..."

What an understatement, Jack scoffed to himself tiredly. If he was being honest with himself, he'd been expecting another beating, since their captors had never shown any interest in taking it further the last time he'd been taken. Taking his luck and history into account, he really should have known better...

"Though, as advanced as they seem..." Jack ground out, when the silence from Carter dragged on for too long. "They went a little bit...medieval for my liking..."

"They whipped you?" Carter asked, and Jack could hear the tears in her voice, even if he didn't have the energy to lift his head so that he could see them in her eyes.

Jack swallowed, hating the vulnerability of his position. "Kinky, right?"

"Sir," Carter replied, and he could hear a little more fire in her voice. Good, Jack thought to himself. He hated to hear her sound so...defeated. "Can you just...can you be serious, please? I can't handle you joking about now. Not when they..."

"Sorry, Carter," he sighed, before she had the chance to continue. "Yes, they...whipped me. Hurt, too."

"And the rest of your injuries?" she asked shakily, although could imagine her clenching her fists in an attempt to control her reaction. "How are your ribs? And your shoulder?"

"Same," Jack ground out, trying not to think about the pain that was quickly overcoming him. God, it felt as if it was getting worse...

"The bastards..." Carter muttered, and Jack could practically hear the gears working in her brain.

"You...promised, Carter," Jack mumbled, fighting to stay awake.

"I...what?"

"You promised you...wouldn't draw...attention to yourself," he explained, struggling to get air in his lungs with the pressure his position was putting on his broken ribs. "Promised..."

"But Sir," Carter replied shakily. "That was when they were beating you, which was bad enough. But now they've _whipped _you too! What's next? What kind of person would I be if I just sat back and let them take you?"

"I kept...my promise," Jack ground out, his voice shaky but clear enough to get his point across. "I kept my promise...you keep yours..."

"But Sir..."

"S'an Order," Jack mumbled, though his mind was barely registering anything but pain now. In fact, he could barely register anything but the heat coming off the long gashes now marking his back, and it was all he could do not to pass out. "Still says...Colonel...on my shirt. Even if I'm not...wearing it...still counts."

She didn't reply immediately, and Jack knew that in that moment he had won the argument. How long her compliance would last, he didn't know, but for now, it was enough. She would be safe.

"I'll get us out of this, Sir," she said finally, and he could hear the determination in her voice. Despite the pain he was in, and the exhaustion that was tearing at every inch of his body, Jack smiled.

"Know you will, Carter," Jack mumbled, as the blackness began to swirl across his vision.

"Sir..."

"Can handle...it, Carter," he muttered, hoping to all hell that it was true. "Promise."

And then the blackness swallowed him completely and he was gone.

* * *

**A/N - **So how was it? I know it isn't my best work, but hopefully it was okay? I also hope that I didn't disappoint too many people by once again not including any explicitly violent scenes. It's not that I have a problem with it myself, but rather I realised as I was writing this chapter that I probably should get my readers' opinion on it first. So, let me know what you think! Do you want to see some actual scenes of violence, or are you happy for it to remain implied? Majority vote wins. For now though, and until next time, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG1, nor any of the shows characters or settings. All I own is the plot, and that's riddled with so many clichés that even _that _claim of ownership is somewhat dubious.

**A/N - **Hello again, my wonderful, amazing readers! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments - I appreciate every single one of them. I've also taken your ideas on board, particularly in terms of how to depict any further violence (I'll be sticking to mostly implied violence/torture, which I hope you're okay with). To reward you for your help, here's a fairly quick update, and the good news is that I have my laptop back (in perfect working order no less!) so it shouldn't take too long for me to update again. The bad news is that this story is drawing to a close now, and I think they'll only be another couple of chapters more. Of course, I do have a habit of not at all sticking to the plans I have in my head, so we'll see what happens. For now, I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

**~ Inmates ~**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Sam stared at her CO's exposed back, her eyes roaming slowly over the inconceivably long, and undoubtedly painful gashes that were scattered across the Colonel's skin in such a horrific, gruesome pattern that it almost made her want to throw up. She swallowed back the bile with a force that almost made her dizzy instead, but she couldn't seem to focus her mind much beyond that brief effort to get control back. Ultimately, her eyes were fixed on the Colonel's back as if there were actual wires holding her gaze in place, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to drag them away.

Those bastards...

Sam clenched her fists in a grip so tight that she knew she was going to draw blood, but she was long past the point of even trying to control her anger and truthfully she just didn't care anymore. In fact, the pain in her palms barely even registered on her scale of what mattered now, because the crux of the matter was that the Colonel had been tortured, and it was all her fault.

Her thoughts were wild and unfettered, ranging from absolute panic to an indescribable desperation for revenge that would have scared her had it been anyone but her team member lying unmoving on the ground before her.

But he _was, _and Sam felt her heart clench in such a stark fear that she wasn't sure she was ever going to be the same person again, no matter what happened next.

Because he'd taken it for her. He hadn't fought them, hadn't even tried to resist when they'd taken him, because he'd known - just as she had - that their captors would take one of them no matter what, and that he'd rather it was him than her. It was so different from other situations they had been in before, because although he had always been willing to lay his life on the line for her - for _any _of them - in the past, he had always still been up for the fight. But now it was as if he had given up on fighting for himself, and was instead focused solely on her, on protecting her. No matter what the cost to himself.

And she hated that, because it was as if he honestly thought she was worth more than he was. That she mattered more in the grand scheme of things.

The mere thought of it made the nausea rise up in her throat again, because he was so _wrong. _And the sad fact was, O'Neill was probably the only one who couldn't see it.

Teal'c saw the Colonel as his leader, the man he would follow into battle no matter what; no matter how bad the situation was. Even if it was a battle that they couldn't even hope to win, Sam knew that Teal'c would stand and fight beside the Colonel to the very end. Daniel, on the other hand, saw the Colonel as his older brother, sometimes annoying, sometimes bossy, but always the man he could rely on above all others, the man who he could trust with his friendship as well as his life.

For every enemy O'Neill had gained over the years, he seemed to have gained twice as many friends; people, animals, aliens even who would follow him wherever he led them, who would lay down their lives in his cause. Sam knew that the SGC itself wouldn't be half the force it was in the world - hell in the universe - if it wasn't for the Colonel. He was their talisman, their representative, and there wasn't a man or woman on the base who didn't respect him and what he stood for.

And Sam herself...well, her feelings about the Colonel were complicated, and the less time she spent dwelling on them the better. What she did know for sure, however, was that for the rest of her life, she knew that she would never meet a _better _man.

And he didn't deserve any of this.

She shook herself forcefully, pushing away the terrible memories and morbid thoughts, and instead slowly coming to rest on her knees beside her commanding officer. Sam lifted a hand slowly towards his back, pausing just an inch or two off the surface of the skin when she could feel the heat that was already coming off the damaged flesh. Sam wished that she had some water, or some of their supplies, just _something_ that she could use to clean the wounds, because she knew from experience that there was a big chance of infection with an injury like this, especially without proper medical attention. Sam prayed with every fibre of her being that the relative cleanliness of their cell would be enough to stall the spread of infection, at least long enough for her to come up with a way of getting them out of here, although she didn't hold out much hope.

Indecision battered at her mind, because she wasn't sure if she should move him or not. Usually she wouldn't even hesitate, especially given the pressure that his current position would no doubt be putting on his broken ribs, but in this case, there were some other factors to consider. For one, she had never quite seen the Colonel look so...weak before. He was a strong man anyway, still well within his prime despite his age, but his intense training, both with the Air Force and with Special Ops had made him a force to be reckoned with in any situation. But now...

He looked more vulnerable than Sam had ever seen him. And that scared her - absolutely terrified her - more than anything else.

Because he was so _hurt._

She didn't want to risk hurting him more by trying to move him. Despite the Colonel's own assertions that he could "handle it", and despite her own knowledge that the man had probably, sadly, been through worse in his life, she couldn't shake the feeling that this time it was a fight that the Colonel might not win. And there was no way in hell she was going to add to the risks by trying to move him.

Instead, Sam bent close to his face, desperately trying to make sure he was still breathing. Her ears were pricked, and she held her own breath in order to hear him, although in the end she wasn't sure if the rasping, shuddering breaths that were coming out of his mouth were actually a comfort to her, or if they were just making her feel worse.

They were a comfort, she told herself almost forcefully, clenching her fists once more. He was _alive, _and despite her earlier thoughts, he was clearly still fighting to stay that way. The least she could do, she realised, was not give up on him. So far, he was keeping his promise to her, and she knew that she owed him no less than to do the same. Not because he was her commanding officer and had ordered her to so, but because he was her friend. He was relying on her to somehow get them out of here in one piece, and Sam refused to rest until she had managed it.

Speaking of which...

Whilst the Colonel had been gone, she'd been thinking about their situation long and hard. Something had been niggling at her from the start, from the moment they had been met by the greeting party once they'd arrived through the gate. Because Sam couldn't help but feel - especially with hindsight on her side - that the men who had met them upon their arrival through the gate had gone from welcoming to threatening very quickly, and she had a strange feeling that their attitudes had changed at the exact moment that they had noticed that their team had a female member.

What that meant, and how she could possibly use it to her advantage here, she didn't know. Her heart ached for Daniel and Teal'c, even for the Colonel, despite the fact that the latter was lying right beside her, because they were a team - a damn good team - and without them, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to get them out of here.

_"I'll get us out of this, Sir," _she'd said, with desperation fuelling her emotions. Now, faced with a commanding officer so bloodied and beaten that he wasn't even able to remain conscious for more than a few seconds at a time, Sam felt a cold chill rush through her. How naïve and foolish that sounded now, she thought, panic and desperation warring within her mind. _I'll get us out of this._ As if it was that easy.

They were trapped, and Sam, with all her genius and all her brains, didn't have the faintest idea how to get them both out alive.

Sam glanced down at the Colonel as his breathing shuddered once more, and then it hit her as forcefully as a truck, that it didn't matter how she felt, or how scared she was of failing. She couldn't give up, she thought, staring down at her commander, her friend, as he clung on to life despite the torture he had endured. SG1 didn't give up and they didn't leave their men behind. There was no way that she was going to let the Colonel die in this cell. Like the Colonel, she refused to let the bastards win so easily.

"I will get us out of here, Sir," she repeated out loud, her words echoing around their small cell, and this time, she meant every word.

* * *

The minutes passed quickly, far too quickly, and it was almost as if time itself was counting down to something that Sam couldn't control, as if something was coming - something terrible - and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She didn't know what it was going to be, but she felt dread all the same, and it served only to make her wish that time would almost stop altogether.

Sam swallowed hard, her throat dry and hoarse after spending the hours since they'd been captured in the same room with no food or water. Since the Colonel had first returned with fresh whip marks on his back, they hadn't seen hide nor hair of their captors. Which suited Sam fine considering the alternatives, although left alone, and with nothing but her still unconscious CO to distract her, Sam's thoughts were wild and growing more desperate by the second. Especially since she still hadn't managed to come up with a plan to break them out of here. She had inspected the cell and the bars from every angle she could think of, but there was nothing, definitely no weaknesses to exploit that she could see.

Sam refused to give up, however, because it felt as if the solution was on the edge of her subconscious mind, somewhere in the periphery just waiting to hit her at the right moment. There was something, there must be - _there always was something__ -_ she just had to think of it what it was. And so she kept thinking until her eyes burned with tiredness and her head ached in a dull pain, until her thoughts became like mush and her body wanted to collapse underneath her.

Of course, when she took into account the Colonel's condition, Sam knew she was in no position to complain.

Fever had hit her CO, just as she had expected it would, and in her mind, sitting here now was a whole new form of torture. Because with the fever came nightmares and pain, the likes of which she couldn't even begin to comprehend. It felt like something was piercing her heart every time he cried out, or begged - _actually begged -_ for Charlie to come back; every time he yelled for them - whoever they were - to stop, twisting and turning as he tried to get away from the imaginary ghosts that were haunting him.

And what made it worse was that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. He was quiet for the moment, Sam thought tiredly, no doubt exhausted from his fever induced nightmares, but she knew, with heaviness settling on her heart, that it was only a brief reprieve, the calm before the storm. His condition, she knew, was only going to get worse.

Her desperation was undoubtedly rising now, almost to the point where she was quite willing to break her promise to the Colonel if it meant saving him from this pain. In fact, there really wasn't a doubt in her mind. She would protect him for once, no matter what the cost, because she knew that if she allowed their captors to take him a second time, he wasn't going to be coming back...

"Carter..."

Her head snapped down, her eyes widening as she saw that not only was the Colonel awake, but that he was also apparently lucid. How long it would last, she didn't know but she was determined to make the most of it.

"Carter..." he repeated, his voice hoarse and shaky.

"Sir?" she asked, bending closer to him.

"Stop...thinking...too much," he ground out, sweat dripping down his forehead from the effort.

"Okay," she replied uncertainly, not really sure how to answer him. She shook herself slightly and moved closer. "How do you feel, Sir?"

"Like crap, Carter," he muttered, still lying face down on the ground. This time he made no attempt to move. "Feel...cold."

"It's the fever, Sir," she told him. "Looks like your back's infected."

"Hurts," he mumbled, wincing as he shifted slightly. "Hard...to breathe."

"Do you want to move?" she asked carefully. She glanced down at him, already trying to work out to logistics of trying to get him in a more comfortable position in their small cell.

"Help...me up," he ordered, though his words, for once, were weak.

"Not this time, Sir," she replied, determined to stay strong. Through no fault of his own, it had reached the point that the Colonel was no longer able to be objectively in charge.

"Dammit, Carter..." he warned.

She shook her head. "I'll help you get onto your side. It might make you more...comfortable."

The Colonel was silent in reply to her offer, and she could almost hear him seething to himself about her insubordination. Eventually though, he must have realised that he was going to need her help if he was going to move at all, because he didn't even try to argue with her.

"Fine," he said tightly.

"Good," she replied, beyond relieved that he wasn't going to fight her in this. She might pay for it later down the line, but she would worry about justifying her insubordination when the time came. Until then, she was determined to keep the Colonel alive, and if that meant going against his explicit orders, so be it.

She bent over him again, this time grabbing him gently under the shoulder that she was fairly certain wasn't dislocated. Without waiting for the go-ahead, she lifted the Colonel's body up as far as she could before gently pushing him onto his side.

"Crap!" he gasped, flinching violently in pain. "Dammit!"

"Sir?"

"I'm...fine," he ground out, his eyes shut tightly as he grimaced. "Just...hurts."

"I know, Sir," she replied, guilt clawing at her. "I'm sorry."

"Not...your fault...Carter," he muttered. Sam wasn't sure she would ever believe him, but the fact that he was definitely breathing a little more easily on his side did release some of the pressure that had been building up inside her.

And then she heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and it felt as if a cold bucket of water had been dropped over her head. Her heart began to beat in a rhythm so fast it made her feel faint, and her breathing became almost as uneven as the Colonel's as panic began to rise up in her. She knew that there was no way in hell that the Colonel could take any more torture now, but she also had no idea how to stop them. Oh god, she needed more time...

"They...coming?" he asked, obviously having heard the same noise, and come to the same conclusion.

"Yes, Sir," she replied hoarsely, desperately forcing her mind to run through thousands of scenarios in the hope that one of them might actually be the answer to breaking them out of here.

"Remember...your promise, Carter," he mumbled before he closed his eyes, clearly preparing himself for the worst. "No...drawing...attention."

"I remember, Sir," she replied tightly. And she did. The trouble was, she also remembered her other promise, the one where she'd told him that she would get them out of here, and she had the horrible feeling that she wasn't going to be able to keep both of them.

"Carter...it was an...honour serving...with you," he ground out, each word obviously a struggle, and Sam felt tears prick at her eyes as her resolve grew in strength. He sounded scared and yet so resigned, and Carter _hated _that with every fibre of her being, because the Colonel was always so _strong, _that it physically hurt her to see him like this.

Well, that settled it, she thought to herself, her mind finally clear. She pulled herself off the floor, and stood firmly in front of the Colonel, her stance strong, and her arms raised and ready to fight. There was no way in hell that she was going to let him die, not after everything they had been through.

And if that meant breaking her promise to him...well then, so be it.

* * *

**A/N - **So how was it? I realise that most of this chapter is very introspective, but I thought it was important to know how Sam was feeling through all of this. I hope you agree? I also hope the end of the chapter made up for the lack of action at the start, because as you might be able to guess, things get a little more action-y from here on out. I hope you like this one anyway, and as always, thanks for reading!


End file.
